


Shadow Shennanigans

by Natasja



Series: Adventures in a Galaxy Far, Far Away [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Undercover Missions, Written for Star Wars Day, giving baby jedi an excuse to dress up and cut loose, temple shennanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasja/pseuds/Natasja
Summary: It's not just Shadows that might have to go undercover occasionally.At the end of their espionage, disguise and undercover course, the Senior Padawans get to put their skills to the test, as it were.Spend a night on the town without being identified or arrested, and make it back without your Master catching you. What could possibly go wrong?
Series: Adventures in a Galaxy Far, Far Away [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732684
Comments: 13
Kudos: 75





	1. The Best-Laid Plans...

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea popped into my head, and I figured that since it was Star Wars Day, why not?

While not every Jedi became a Shadow, missions could go wrong and sometimes working undercover, or blending in until the Order could organise an extraction, might be necessary.

Some Jedi experienced this phenomenon more than others, but all active teams at least one story of such a mission. Thus, all Padawans underwent a course of study in stealth, disguise and how to pass as something other than a Jedi. The precaution had saved lives, more than once.

Some enterprising Master, back in the mists of time, had decided that the final exam should be a trial of fire. Nothing beat experience, and it doubled as a lesson in keeping cover even when One thought they were safe from scrutiny. Padawans spent an evening partying in the mid-levels, trying to avoid being spotted by the examiners, randomly chosen from the younger Knights currently on-planet, also undercover, and return to the temple without getting caught by their Masters.

The Padawans, chosen examiners and Masters had a week to plan their ‘mission’ before the exam itself. The rest of the temple tended to spend that same week setting up security cams and hacking into CorSec vid-feeds, in order to entertain themselves with the resulting shenanigans. As with all the best plans, the ‘missions’ frequently went awry.

* * *

Mace Windu, Master of the Jedi Order, exchanged resigned glances with several of his fellow Councillors as the Council session finished for the day.

Ignoring the mock-sympathetic looks from those Councillors fortunate enough to not have Padawans taking their Undercover exam, Masters Mundi, Gallia, Tholme and Giett lingered behind with Mace. The Battlemaster leaned against a window, “So, what are your plans for the evening?”

Mace huffed something that could have been a laugh. “Changing the window locks as soon as Vaneria leaves the apartment, for one. She’s too clever to ignore the obvious solution of sneaking back in.”

Depa had tried to absail down from the floor above, but his current Padawan had entirely functional wings, which added a whole new set of possibilities. Adi smiled fondly at him, the graceful Tholotian woman remaining seated as he paced, “Whatever Siri’s plans are, she hasn’t been talking about them where I’m able to overhear. Yours?”

The question was directed at the other masters. Tholme rolled his eyes, “If nothing else, Quinlan will come out of this course knowing discretion. Whether or not he choses to apply it, of course, remains to be seen.”

Young Vos was precocious and talented, but he had a knack for finding trouble that rivalled his friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi. If the course rendered the young hotheads more likely to survive their future escapades, Mace would count it as good.

Ki-Adi shook his head, “Reeft and Garen will be with them tonight, at least, though whether that will make things better or worse is for the Force to know.”

Tholme laughed. “Twenty credits says that there’s at least one brawl.”

Mace had no doubt that there would be, but he didn’t feel like borrowing trouble. “My Padawan has been colluding with Depa, doubtless to see how far she can test my blood pressure. Whatever has them giggling and falling silent as soon as they spot me, I don’t want to know about until I have to.”

Adi reached over to pat his hand as the other masters commiserated by laughing at him. “Siri has been looking through wanted posters for inspiration. I only hope she doesn’t wind up recruited into a gang by accident.”

Micah Giett almost slipped from his casual lounge, “Adi, that only happened once!”

Mace felt entirely justified in aiming a judgemental stare at his fellow Master. It distracted him from worrying what his own Padawan might consider suitable clothing for a night on the town.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Senior Padawan and possessed of more mischief than most of the Teaching Masters credited him with, wished that more time had been dedicated to the subtleties of hair and make up during their course. Red hair like his stuck out in a crowd, and was proving annoyingly resistant to his attempts to darken it. Well, the rich auburn was clearly as close as he would get. Quickly, he slipped into the trousers, shirt and vest common among spacers, checked that his lightsaber was securely hidden and distinctive Padawan braid tucked up and out of sight beneath the strip of cloth holding his hair back, and hurried out to meet his friends.

He was the first to arrive at the designated landing pad, but he wasn’t kept waiting for long. Garen and Reeft were dressed in the coveralls and utility belts of mechanical engineers, but Quinlan… “Your Master let you out of the temple in that?”

Quinlan’s distinctive facial tattoo was covered by make-up that made it appear more like a scar, and disguised with more fake tattoos. Wearing skin-tight leather trousers and a sleeveless vest, notably lacking a shirt and accessorised with far more vibroblades than he thought his friend owned, Obi-Wan was glad they hadn’t been assigned anywhere upscale for their mission, because Quinlan’s appearance would see them automatically searched anywhere above the lower levels.

The Kiffar grinned broadly at Obi-Wan’s scepticism. “Only technically. I wore a cloak until I was in the hovercar.”

Reeft shook his head, “Let’s go. Siri commed to say that the girls are almost there already, and I’m hungry.”

* * *

Siri and the Bothan twins with her had been nice enough to save a table – and defended it, if the humanoid nursing a scorched appendage and shooting glares at her back was any indication – completing their appearance of friends hanging out for the night. There were supposed to be three more of them, but none of the beings coming through the door looked familiar. Suddenly, Quinlan straightened in his chair. “Hey, does that trio of dancers look familiar to you?”

Obi-Wan tried not to roll his eyes. The trio in question were a mixed bunch; a Twi’lek and two winged humanoids who might have been of Iegan descent, but likely mixed with something else along the way. “Quin, didn’t Vaneria tell you that not every sentient with wings is – Oh.”

Now that he looked past the clothing and the activity they were engaged in, they were familiar. Well, hiding in plain sight was still technically blending in, and Vaneria had never been short on audacity. “Master Windu is going to kill someone.”

Siri let out a soft whistle, eyeing the trio appreciatively. “Forget Windu, what is Alyra’s master going to do?”

Obi-Wan briefly debated reminding his friend that clothing was not an indication of sexuality, especially in this case, and decided not to bother. Besides, Siri had a point. At least two Masters were going to have a fit.

Alyra, the Twi’lek girl, was wearing a vest and pants made of emerald synthsilk only a shade or so darker than her own colouring the silka beads that symbolised a Padawan Braid wrapped around her throat as a necklace. While technically far more covered than most of her race present in the club, one needed to look twice to realise that she wasn’t actually naked. Vaneria, in close-fitting black leather that contrasted beautifully with her silvery skin and iridescent wings, was likewise technically decent, her outfit teasing and suggesting more than it actively revealed, but suited her disguise as a dancer very well. The third was a male, or at least male-presenting, probably of Vaneria’s species, that Obi-Wan vaguely recognised as a visitor from the Corellian Temple. He was dressed in a decorative metal belt and two long strips of fabric, and if he wore anything else, Obi-Wan couldn’t see it. Both humanoids wore their hair in a multitude of slim braids, camouflaging their Padawan status nicely.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, then decided that if he was going to be bounced over the salle by at least one irate Master anyway, he might as well earn it. “Don’t let on that you’ve recognised them; I want to see how far they test it.”

Quinlan smirked and leaned back in his chair, sipping a drink that was far too brightly coloured to be safe for human consumption. “No problem.”

Garen mirrored the Kiffar’s pose. “I think the Zabrak that just slipped a credit note into her lacings is one of our examiners.”

Reeft looked up from the shared platter they had ordered as the music ended, deliberately catching the dancers’ eye and holding up a credit chip. “Well, better to have us all in one spot, and at least this way they have an excuse.”

The trio began to saunter over to the table, but were waylaid by the humanoid who had been glaring at Siri, and several of his friends. “Now, why waste your time with that trash?”

Alyra raised an eyebrow, one slender hand on her cocked hip. “They’ve got good credits, for one.”

A Weequay sneered, and another huminoid, this one with a head of fine tentacles, tried to grab a handful of pretty dancer. Vaneria snapped one wing out, far more solid than it’s delicate appearance suggested, and sent him flying into the Weequay, who staggered against another table. The occupants immediately protested the interruption and spilled drinks. The Weequay snapped an insult in Huttese, and the offended being responded by breaking a glass over his head.

Several dozen beings at nearby tables started paying close attention, a sense of anticipation building, and Obi-Wan sighed. It looked like they wouldn’t be getting out of their mission without a fight, after all. At least that explained the bad feeling he’d had about the whole thing.


	2. Returning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two, and just in time* to qualify for Revenge of the Sixth!
> 
> *In Australia, anyway. I will happily abuse time-zones for my own benefit.

Quinlan, of course, dived into the fray without hesitation, fist-bumping the Corellian Padawan. Siri tackled a Itichi who was sneaking up on Vaneria. Garen and Reeft watched them go, then looked questioningly at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan briefly debated leaving both of his dearest hotheads to their perhaps well-deserved fate, but decided that not joining in the brawl that was quickly spreading to encompass the entire bar would be more notable than staying out of it. “Ah, kriff it. Come on.”

It wasn’t that the girls (or Quinlan) actually needed help, it was about staying undercover until it was time to return to the temple. Alyra had her would-be groper in a painful arm-lock, her other hand twisted in his head-tails. The being had turned a colour that couldn’t be healthy for his species, and was emitting a high-pitched whistling sound. Vaneria’s wings were of little use in such a crowd, and were tucked closely to her back, but she had produced a baton of some sort from Force only knew where and was making very effective – and enthusiastic – use of it. The Corellian Padawan was beaming at her in a way that Master Windu really wasn’t going to like, but Obi-Wan would lay credits might have ended in the sleeping quarters if either of their masters let them out of sight in the next week.

The Bothan twins, who had been dancing on the floor with the non-professionals while all this went down, tackled the Zabrak that Garen had tagged as one of their examiners. A young Wookie roared gleefully, and looked disappointed when a wide space suddenly cleared around him. The Wookie looked briefly disappointed, then gave a philosophical shrug and lunged at a Muun who had been sizing up the brewing arguments, looking for a score to settle.

A table splintered under the weight of a tangle of brawling limbs, and Obi-Wan grabbed a leg to use as a cudgel. He wasn’t about to draw his lightsaber, not here, but the moves were not too different, and training with other weapons had been part of the Undercover course. A Whipid that came too close discovered that the hard way.

Violence was not the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan thought that he could be forgiven for occasionally giving into the desire to cut lose.

* * *

Keeping the bonds between herself and her friends open enough to monitor their well-being, Vaneria paused when one of the Bothans – Ver’ska, if she was telling them apart correctly – whispered in her mind ‘ _I hear sirens approaching. Unless we want to negotiate our way out of CorSec lock-up, I suggest that we make ourselves scarce._ ’

Augmenting her own hearing with the Force, Vaneria seconded the opinion, and sent a pulse of warning to the others. Obi-Wan might be a skilled diplomat, but none of them wanted a lecture about inappropriate uses of Force Suggestion. It was almost time for them to leave, anyway.

Extracting themselves and reaching the exit took longer than she might have liked, but they rounded the corner just as the first speeders pulled up. Obi-Wan flashed a rare grin at the rest of them. “That was fun, as much as I’m loathe to admit it.”

Siri draped an arm over his shoulders, ignoring the pout Quinlan aimed at her, “It was. I suggest walking a few blocks before we try to catch a hovercab, though, just in case.”

Ver’ska cast a pointed look at the ‘dancers’, though her twin, Tas’kra, was the one bold enough to say what they were both thinking. “You three get in the middle of the rest of us. A large group already attracts attention down here, we don’t want more of the wrong kind.”

* * *

The trip back to the temple didn’t take long, even with the driver casting sidelong looks in the rear-view mirror most of the way. It was almost enough to make Vaneria wish that she’d brought a cloak, if she hadn’t sensed that the driver was a lot more interested in Mikhal, the Corellian Padawan, than in her or Alyra. They arrived back at the Temple almost exactly on schedule, the hovercar speeding off with almost palatable disappointment as soon as they paid, and almost crashed into Obi-Wan, who had stopped at the base of the Temple steps.

Dodging before Quinlan could run into her, Vaneria looked to see what had caused the fuss. A tingle of annoyance ran through her, though it wasn’t aimed at her friend or the obstacle. “I do wish that parents dropping off potential Initiates would at least take them to the front door.”

She picked up the infant (human female, as far as she could tell, with wisps of red hair on top of the tiny head. Garen reached down and picked up a piece of flimsi. “At least they left relevant medical information, this time. Bant _hates_ it when she and the other Healers have to work out everything from scratch.”

Vaneria shrugged, leading the way up the steps. “Better than nothing, I suppose. Does our new Crecheling have a name?”

Quinlan tilted his head, reading over Garen’s shoulder. “Tallisibeth… I have no idea how to even begin pronouncing that. Poor kid. Barely makes the midichlorian cut-off, but it’s sometimes the ones that struggle most who turn out the best.”

Ver’ska frowned, “Should we really be going through the front door? Wouldn’t it make more sense to sneak in?”

Tas’kra shook her head, “Past the Temple Guardians? It makes more sense for our Masters to be waiting in our actual apartments. After all… ah, _Sith_!

The reason for her unexpected cursing became apparent when the doors came into view… and with them, a cluster of Masters, all with folded arms and disapproving expressions.

* * *

Master Windu’s expression was exactly as much of a picture as Obi-Wan anticipated, and he instantly whipped off his cloak, a move mirrored by Alyra and Mikhal’s masters. Vaneria didn’t wait, but spread her wings and launched herself and little Tallisibeth into the air. From her trajectory, she was headed toward the Healers, a clever move.

Tallisibeth would need to go there anyway, but Masters were automatically notified when their Padawan crossed the threshold of the Healing Halls, and Master Windu had a reputation for appearing to hover over his apprentices and get in the way of the Healers about five standard minutes after receiving such an alert. If Vaneria was sensible, she’d drop the girl off and take the service corridors back to her apartments while her Master was distracted.

Master Giett caught Garen’s braid before he could run, and Alyra hadn’t managed to dodge her master’s cloak, being quickly bundled up and hustled inside. Mikhal was already in the middle of a lecture as he followed his master, though the Corellian Jedi seemed more upset at hers Padawan getting caught than she was about his choice of disguise. The twins had switched Masters, Obi-Wan noted, which technically gave them a second shot at sneaking back to their own rooms un-caught after lulling their Masters into a false sense of security.

Master Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and turned around, clearly expecting Obi-Wan to fall in step behind him. Perhaps his friends were a bad influence, but Obi-Wan was seized with a sudden bout of contrariness.

A CorSec drone was hovering nearby, and Obi-Wan took a running leap off the side of the stairs, plummeting for a few breathless moments before catching the drone. The drones were programmed to go to the nearest secure hanger if they were interfered with, and in this case, the nearest hanger was the Jedi Temple’s main landing pad. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would give him a head start on his Master, whose loud cursing was not quite lost in the high winds. Padawans only counted as ‘caught’ once their masters were physically within reach, after all.

* * *

Obi-Wan made it back to his shared apartment, only to discover that his Master had changed the door codes! Muttering invective under his breath, Obi-Wan spliced into the ‘pad, re-setting the code just as his master rounded the corner. He worked faster, and the door hissed open just as his Master’s large hand descended on his shoulder. “A commendable effort, Padawan, but not quite.”

Obi-Wan grumbled a phrase he’d picked up on their last mission that the Protocol Droid had made a distressed noise rather than translating, and went into the small kitchen to put the kettle on. Qui-Gon followed, a small smile on his lips. “It’s a test for the Masters, as much as the Padawans, to keep us sharp on spotting intruders. It’s rare for a Padawan to actually succeed in returning un-caught.”

Obi-Wan rummaged in the cupboards for his preferred sapir blend. “Well, I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow when we turn in our final reports. Watching the footage should be interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in a third chapter of the aftermath and/or my (shoddy) efforts at drawing (also open to fan-art of the disguises, if anyone is so inclined? I'm considering it, but it may take longer.


	3. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By request, the aftermath of the Exam

Tracking his Padawan’s path from the Healing Halls wasn’t hard; all Mace had to do was follow the trail of dazed-looking Jedi left in her wake.

The burst of glee that echoed down their training bond, when he was still two corridors away, alerted him that Vaneria had succeeded in beating him back to their quarters. The sight of Depa casually strolling down the hall to the same destination only confirmed it. It was a little gratifying that Mace still only had to raise a stern eyebrow at his former apprentice to get answers. “Vaneria needed help extracting herself from her disguise. Besides, I was curious.”

Mace had a brief and unwelcome flashback to Depa’s Stealth exam, where her entire group had to be bailed out of a CorSec holding cell, after the Senator they were shadowing for the night fell victim to a Spice sting and the officers simply arrested everyone present to sort out later. Rather than dwell on it, he opened the door, walking in to the sight of his wayward current Padawan awkwardly contorting as she tried to get at the ties to her lacings.

It was quite the departure from the sultry, confident dancer she had been dressed as earlier, much to Mace’s relief. Behind him, Depa snickered, and headed over to assist. “Impressive outfit. How did the recording device work out?”

Vaneria removed the delicate headpiece that held her braids back from her face, removing what turned out to be a tiny audio-vid recorder from the centre. “I think so. I haven’t reviewed the footage yet.”

Mace shook his head, both amused and impressed, and started to undo the mass of braids his Padawan’s hair had been twisted into. “Do that in the morning; you’ve got two days before the report is due, and you’ll be able to look at it with objective eyes.”

Besides, then he could watch it with her, and determine who was in need of specialised extra training at the point of his lightsaber.

Depa snickered again, undoing the last of the ties and letting her Padawan-sister take a deep breath, “Why do all the nicest clothes require at least one extra person to get dressed in?”

Depa shrugged, “Be glad it wasn’t high fashion, you need an entire team of people to get in and out of those!”

Mace could foresee that conversation going all night, and decided to head it off. “Just bring a cloak with you, next time. A chill isn’t the only thing you need to worry about.”

Vaneria looked up at him, dark eyes wide and vulnerable as she attempted to determine his dominant emotion. Mace sighed; for all that his Padawan was humanoid, Human emotions often confused her. “I’m not angry, Padawan, but a lot could have gone badly for you, and worse for what you were disguised as.”

“I know, _Areda_. But I needed to prove to myself that I could do it.”

The use of the alternate title, a word in her native language that conveyed the meaning of **_ParentFriendFamily_** that lay beneath the bond of Master and Padawan, caught his attention. Ah. Well, that put a different spin on things.

He sat down on the small sofa, letting his Padawan curl into his side like she used to. “The Zygarrian Incident?”

Vaneria had been escorting a group of Initiates to Ilum, when their ship had been attacked by a ship connected to the Zyggarian Empire, a system of Slavers. Vaneria had managed to get most of the initiates into escape pods, jettisoned safely down to an inhabitable moon, but she and a of the eldest Intitates had been captured. ( _Fools, to steal a Padawan while her Master still drew breath_ )

His Padawan remained in their custody less than a standard week before Mace and Depa had led a team to rescue them, but the ordeal left its scars. _Areda_ had been the word they used until Vaneria could stand to call him ‘Master’ again.

The clothes they had dressed her in, preparing to be sold to the highest bidder, were not too dissimilar to the outfit she had worn tonight. Vaneria nodded at his understanding, an uncertain smile trembling on her lips. “I needed to know, to prove to myself, that I could wear such a thing, be the subject of such attention, and not freeze or panic. This way, at least I had an excess of back-up if something went wrong.”

Depa curled up on Vaneria’s other side, her own memories of pirate captivity not as faded as Mace might wish. He wrapped his Force presence around them like a blanket, and made a mental note to requisition a more comfortable couch for nights like this.

Never mind that Vaneria was almost an adult, that Depa was a Knight nearing Mastery in her own right – they would always be the children of his heart, and Mace would always be there when they needed him.

* * *

Obi-Wan winced as the Zabrak knight impacted hard against the floor of the salle (again), exchanging resigned looks with Quinlan and Garen. Behind them, Mikhal was attempting to persuade his own Master that leaving to return to Corellia early was a good idea. It didn’t help that Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s amusement down their bond, his Master barely even bothering to shield.

Siri, who had bolted back down the stairs, Quinlan close on her heels, and used an alternate entry point, had made it back unscathed, the wretches. So had the twins, whose masters had caught onto the ruse halfway to their quarters, but lost the twins when they fled to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, switched back, and escaped to their rooms ahead of their Masters. Overall, the Undercover class had about a 65% success rate, with a further 20% getting caught at the last moment as Obi-Wan had, 12% being caught at some point during the exam, and 3% falling victim to circumstances beyond their control.

It left Obi-Wan feeling fairly satisfied when he woke up, which lasted exactly as long as it took Master Windu to see Vaneria’s footage of the night, shout loud enough for half the temple to hear, and pick his sparring partners for the next month.

Quinlan bumped shoulders with Obi-Wan, cheerfully resigned to his fate. “Is it bad that I’m impressed that Master Windu has managed to keep lecturing this entire match?”

Siri joined them, a light sheen of sweat covering her from her own sparring. “Probably, but you wouldn’t be alone.”

She waved to Vaneria, sentenced to katas and sparring until her Master felt like leaving and still shooting apologetic looks in their direction as Alyra joined her in their sparring area, then turned her attention back to Master Windu. The Harun Kal Master had kept up an impressive litany of his disappointment at the Zabrak not only failing to notice a Padawan right under his nose, but failing badly enough to play into her guise. Finally, the hapless examiner was deemed absolved, and Master Windu turned a foreboding stare to the stands.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to hide behind Quinlan, and hauled himself to his feet. “Be sure to say something nice at my funeral.”

Quinlan scoffed, “Of course not, I intend to list every single time you made a fool of yourself or did something stupidly impulsive. Consider it incentive to outlive me.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “I fully intend to outlive the lot of you, just so I can say I told you so over your pyre.”

Quinlan laughed, clapped him on the shoulder, and sent him onward to his doom.

Master Windu’s smile as Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber in a salute was not even slightly reassuring. “Just wait until it’s your own Padawan undergoing the same thing. I wish you joy of your suffering.”

* * *

_Approximately 16 standard years later…_

Then-Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had been very happy to disappoint Master Windu by having every confidence in his Padawan during Anakin’s Undercover exam, even when he had to bail the entire group out after they’d been caught when CorSec busted an illegal Swoop Bike race (really, Anakin had been sneaking out to participate in those for years, blissfully unaware of his Master silent observation, and the one time he got caught was during his exam?)

Ahsoka was a different story.

For all that her apprenticeship had been a trial by fire, most of it spent in a warzone, she hadn’t really needed to go undercover before, and learning from brash, impatient Anakin hadn’t really helped.

Ahsoka had left roughly half a standard hour ago, along with Scout and Barriss, and now Luminara and Vaneria had joined Obi-Wan in his apartment, sipping some kind of fruity mocktails as they watched Anakin pace and Obi-Wan quietly fret. Vaneria poured a glass of Corellian brandy and held it out to him. “Will you be waiting for them on the front steps tonight?”

Obi-Wan waited to see if Anakin even heard her, then shrugged. “Probably, though I doubt that she’ll take that route. I –“

Anakin interrupted, spinning so abruptly that he almost tripped over the caffe table. “Ahsoka’s had a growth spurt since the last time she tried to go through the vents, and she doesn’t have her speeder license yet! This was a terrible idea!”

Obi-Wan sent a soothing pulse down their bond, and turned back to his friends. “What about you?”

Vaneria smiled, setting her glass down on the table. “Alarming her window and then napping on the couch. My Scout almost tested out of the class before she even took it; the least I can do is provide her with a challenge.”

Scout had well and truly earned her nickname, and had come a long way from the helpless infant they had found on the Temple steps. She would be fine. Anakin stopped pacing and brightened, never a good sign in situations like this, and Obi-Wan re-focused. “Oh, I could comm Rex and give him and a few of the 501st a general idea of where they went-“

Obi-Wan tried not to sigh, “ – and instantly blow their cover the moment the clones invade every bar in a three-klick radius. _No_ , Anakin.”

His so-called friends exchanged amused looks, and Obi-Wan wondered if he was doomed to suffer every time he was even tangentially involved in the Undercover exam.

Perhaps Master Windu really had cursed him, back in his Padawan days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started on some artwork of the outfits (I'm terrible at drawing faces, especially human ones), so look for that in the next few days.  
> Also, check out 'Beyond the Stars', my Sequel Trilogy re-write. 'Galactic CHOPPED' should be getting another chapter - Padawan vs aides round - soon, too.


	4. Vaneria sketch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art of Vaneria, drawn by Tetsu McNiel
> 
> No, Master Windu was not pleased

**Author's Note:**

> I had to cut this in half because it was just getting way too long, but the next part is nearly finished and should be up by tomorrow. Enjoy!  
> Happy Star Wars Day and May the 4th be with you!


End file.
